There’s only one person I want to speak to right now. One person who I trust to look at this with any kind of objectivity: my sister. Cool, rational decisions are her forte. I dial her number and place the phone to my ear, waiting for it to ring. It doesn’t. Instead, it just cuts to voicemail. I try again. And again. Voicemail, every time.
“Una it’s me. I, uh, I need to speak to you.” I press a hand to my forehead, feeling a pounding headache starting to settle behind my eyes. “Call me, please.”
I sit on the balcony, my mind numb as though it can’t possibly process any more thoughts. I stare aimlessly at the sun, watching it rise high into the sky before starting to fall again. I frown when I hear raised voices from downstairs. Pushing to my feet, I leave the room and follow the sound.
“Stand down!” I hear Samuel shout before I’ve even rounded the corner. When I do, I find Una standing in the entrance hall, guns pointed at the heads of two of Rafael’s men. There are five in total, including Samuel, and four of them are aiming weapons at her. Her eyes meet mine, and a cocky smile pulls at her lips.
“Hello, sister.”
“Lower your weapons,” I order the men surrounding her. They glance at me but don’t react. “Lower. Your. Weapons,” I snap, and this time they listen. Una’s smirk stretches to a grin.
“Well, well.” She shoves her guns back into the holsters at her thighs. “Authority suits you, Anna.”
I turn and lead her away from prying eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“Rafael called last night.”
“Of course he did.” He always knows what I need far before I do.
“Tell me what you need, Anna. I can kill Dimitri Petrov, or exert some pressure.”
“No. I just…need advice.” She cocks a brow in surprise, and I lead her through the back of the house, out into the gardens. “I guess you know Rafael met with Dimitri Petrov.”
She presses her lips tightly together. “I do. He told me about the deal.”
I stop walking and turn to face her. “He says the choice is mine, but how can that be a choice? I need your rational judgment. You always think with your head.”
She drops her chin to her chest and drags a hand through her hair. “Not always.” She looks up, those violet eyes of her meeting mine. “I have one exception.”
“Dante.”
“Dante.” She nods, her eyes going distant as a soft smile touches her lips. “I could try to explain it to you, but words would fail. The moment I looked in his eyes, my entire world shifted. He became my reason for everything.”
“I can’t…I don’t know what to do.” My voice wavers, and I fight back the tears I didn’t think I had left.
In a rare show of affection, she cups my cheek, forcing me to look at her. “You haven’t carried her. You haven’t given birth to her. You’ve never even met her. But trust me, when you look into her eyes, you will know. You will love her in ways you never thought possible.” I close my eyes and a teardrop tracks down my cheek. She brushes it away with her thumb. “I know this is hard, but believe me when I say, I would sacrifice a hundred innocent women for my son. A thousand. It’s being a mother.”
More tears pour down my face because I know what I’m going to do, and it feels like I just stepped right into the fires of hell. For her. My child. A stranger. My daughter.
“I need you to do something for me, Una…”
78
Rafael
I find Anna out by the pool. She has a glass of whiskey in her hand I watch from the shadows, as she downs the whole thing. Reaching below the sun lounger, she picks up a bottle and pours another.
“Why bother with the glass?”
She doesn’t even look at me as I drop onto the lounger beside her.
“It’s more civilized.”
I smile, despite the ominous air that clings to us both. “Have you made a decision?”
“Not one I’m sure I can live with.”
I move into her line of vision. “I’ll help you live with it.”
“I don’t think even you can save me from this, Rafe.” She looks at me, her eyes full of heartbreak and unshed tears. “Make the deal,” she whispers.
“Okay.” I lean over and kiss her forehead, inhaling the scent of her raspberry shampoo. It reminds me of her, of innocence and light. But she’s not innocent anymore, and I’m not sure how much light will be left by the time this is done.
I glance out of the window of the car, watching, as twenty women are loaded onto one of my cargo planes. My stomach knots and bile creeps up my throat. Carlos stands on the tarmac, overseeing the entire thing. None of us like this, but he’s made his feelings clear. He’s a father. He would do the same thing for his kids.